All was well for Voldemort and Bellatrix
by Kylie Concorde
Summary: Did the ending of HP7 leave you thinking 'oh dear not another silly story where good beats evil? Here's a story where Bellatrix and Voldemort fall in love and take over the wizarding world. Finally a happy ending for the villains! Because evil rocks!
1. Chapter 1: The Dark Lord's Gift

**Author's Note: **Here we have yet another fan fiction about Bellatrix and Voldemort. Of course in this story Voldemort's character has to be changed a little or else poor Bellatrix will have her heart broken. Of course I don't want to do that to her, because I'm rather fond of evil characters.

I'm thirteen years old and I reckon I'm a pretty good writer considering my age. This is my first Harry Potter fanfic so enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. If I did I would be J.K. Rowling and if I was J.K. Rowling I would be a much better writer.

**Chapter 1: **The Dark Lord's gift

Nothing about the Riddle House appealed to Bellatrix one little bit. Fifty years had passed since muggles last inhabited the mansion near Little Hangleton, but still Bellatrix sensed a distasteful presence within it. When she was young she had never imagined herself stooping so low.

Now she had little choice. Her master had been using the house as a means of concealing himself from the wizarding world for many months now. Few accepted the account of Lord Voldemort's rebirth, thus he deemed it to be an adequate hiding place, from which he seldom allowed his followers to leave. To Bellatrix the Dark Lord's word was law.

Although not fond of her new home, Bellatrix delighted in being free from the horrors of Azkaban. The memories of the torment she had gone through to please her master no longer tore at her dark spirit. Instead she stood proudly beside her master, letting his strength wash over her and his power flowing through her.

One night, she lay down on a bench in the mansion's garden. The night began as usual, with her casting her mind back to the day of her escape. She remembered standing on a deserted street, the dawn after the breakout, facing her master. She had stared into his fierce scarlet eyes, hardly daring to believe she was seeing him again after so many years apart. The stench of decay wafted through the air. The coldness made her shiver, but she cared not. To her the only things that truly existed were herself and her master.

'My Lord, you rescued me,' she said, breathless with joy, 'I must admit I was beginning to doubt you. I had spent so long in prison that I began to loose hope. I beg of you; forgive me for my foolishness.'

For several long seconds, Voldemort remained silent, a stern expression engraved on his pale face. Finally he spoke to Bellatrix in a soft voice, 'We both know what it means to have waited for what seemed like eternity, to watch our hopes vanish bit by bit, to be abandoned by the people we placed our trust in. This is something we share.'

Bellatrix's heart leapt, 'But still you stand before me in all your former glory. You were saved from your torment just as I was. How did such a joyous event occur?'

So Voldemort recounted the tale of his return. Bellatrix listened with rapt attention.

'So you were willing to brave Azkaban for me,' Voldemort said, once he reached the end of his story, 'such favours are not easily forgotten. Time has changed you Bella; you don't look the way you used to.'

Bellatrix's heart sank. He was right; Azkaban had sucked most of the beauty from her face, leaving it pale and hollow. Though there were no mirrors in her cell, Bellatrix should've known what such a place would do to her.

'Such changes are evidence of your bravery and devotion,' Voldemort continued, 'I value these qualities and will reward you for them.'

Bellatrix's nervousness turned to relief mixed with a growing sense of excitement.

'I shall bless you with my abilities,' said Voldemort, 'transmit my power through to you. Maybe some day, if you maintain your loyalty to me, you'll be almost as mighty as I am.' At these words Bellatrix's face lit up with joy. She could barely speak but her expression revealed all.

Voldemort held out his wand, as if poised to attack. Bellatrix gasped, as what resembled an electric current, burst from the wand. The spell struck her in the chest and condensed to form a thin black tube. A strange tingling sensation spread from the point of contact as the magic travelled through her body, infusing her with its power.

After the shock of the spell had passed, the benefits came through. A sense of adrenaline pumped through Bellatrix's veins, making her feel warm in spite of the chilly morning air. Her pulse raced as her grew stronger as she became convinced that no goal was beyond her reach. Everyone else seemed pitiful in her eyes, apart from the one man standing before her.

The black tube disintegrated, but Bellatrix's strength remained. She had grown accustomed to the changes. 'Master I am forever grateful,' she stuttered. Voldemort said no more.

'The Dark Lord wishes to speak to you,' Wormtail's words interrupted Bellatrix's memory. She awoke from her dream-like state to find herself trapped inside the Riddle House once more.

'Very well then,' she scorned. For having a worthless wretch like Wormtail speak to her as an equal displeased her.

Bellatrix followed Wormtail through empty hallway after empty hallway, until she found herself standing at the door to her master's room.

She rarely spoke to him since the day he lent her his power, for she did not want to let the memory be tainted. When she did meet with him it was only to exchange important information, but somehow she couldn't stop herself from knocking on the dusty, wooden door.

'Come in, my Bella,' she heard her master say.

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Hope you enjoyed the first chapter! Don't forget to read the rest if you can be bothered.


	2. Chapter 2: Bellatrix's mission

**Author's Note: **Ok here's chapter 2. This is probably the least interesting chapter I'm going to write for this story, but the next chapters will be far batter I promise.

So this is the part where Bellatrix is ordered to obtain the prophecy from the Ministry of Magic and of course we all know how that turns out. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, but I sure as hell wish I did. If I did it would've ended very differently and people would actually be able to understand what happened.

**Chapter 2: **Bellatrix's mission

The moment she entered the room, Bellatrix spotted her master sitting in the same decrepit chair he had been using since his body had been regenerated. He was emitting an atmosphere of grandeur, with his long black robe and thoughtful expression. The snake Nagini slept idly on the rotting rug beside her master's chair.

'Good evening Bella,' Voldemort greeted her, lying back in his chair, 'Glad you could join me.'

'It is an honour and a pleasure to be so near to you, my Lord,' Bellatrix said. She sank to her knees and bowed so hastily that her matted hair was flung onto the floor in front in front of her.

Voldemort sighed with satisfaction, 'Your commitment has always been your greatest virtue.' Voldemort gazed down upon Bellatrix in silent admiration for a moment before continuing, 'don't fail me tonight Bella, or you might never regain my respect or forgiveness.'

Voldemort leapt to his feet gracefully. He strode towards Bellatrix until she was within reach of his bony arm. He gazed solemnly into her eyes, as he lifted his arm and laid it to rest of Bellatrix's shoulder. A brief shiver ran down her spine. She wanted to place her hand on top of his, but something held her back.

'I have faith you Bella,' he told her, 'You _will _get me the prophecy from the Department of Mysteries, the one regarding myself and the Potter brat.' He snarled ferociously as he uttered the last two words. 'We spent many months planning this. The time I have to live may depend on your success. You Bella have proven yourself worthy to be trusted with such a responsibility.'

Bellatrix swelled up with pride at these words. 'You shall hear the prophecy, Master,' she said, 'I promise.'

'Pray you don't disappoint me,' Voldemort added, with a touch of menace. He allowed his pale fingers to grace her arm, as he pulled back his hand

'Very well, you are free to go, next time I see you'd better come baring my prophecy or you will face consequences,' Voldemort barked, 'Must I remind you what those consequences are?'

Bellatrix sensed her master's scarlet eyes burning away at her skin. 'No, my Lord,' she stammered. She wanted to assure her master that she would not fail him, that she would bring him the key to his victory, yet somehow she didn't seem quite so certain anymore.

She turned to leave. Just as she was about to exit the room, Voldemort tapped her on the shoulder, she turned back around to face him, releasing the slightest gasp as she did so.

'Be careful Bella,' he warned, 'Do not touch the prophecy unless the enemy has taken done so first. Prophecies are only meant to be retrieved by the ones whom they are about. I would not want to loose my most loyal servant, because of a small misjudgement.'

Bellatrix's chest gave a painful throb. 'Servant?' she repeated, but Voldemort did not respond.

'I would not be forced to hurt you, but mistakes must never go unpunished. How else is one to learn anything? Don't make this your one mistake, Bella.'

Bellatrix wandered through the Hall of Prophecy along with the other Death Eaters. Together they awaited the arrival of the Potter brat, who would retrieve the prophecy for them.

As they patrolled the isles a particular prophecy caught Bellatrix's eye. She read the label located beneath the glass sphere, _to the Dark Lord and the only one he ever cared about._

A million thoughts formed at once. _Could it possibly mean me?_ _If I risk taking the prophecy I'll know for sure whether or not I mean anything to the Dark Lord, but perhaps it would be best not to know and instead let myself go on hoping. _

She had devoted much of her life to her master. If she learned that he did not fancy her back, the discovery would crush her, but she refused to pass up her one chance to know the truth. She'd much rather touch the glass ball than disclose her feelings to Voldemort directly.

_The Dark Lord blessed me with his power. Even now I feel his presence inside of m_e. _There's something between us, I swear there must be after all I did for him._

But one word still pierced her like an arrow._ I would not want to loose my most loyal servant. _Was that all the Dark Lord thought of her as, a mere ally, nothing more? An instrument by which to execute his will? Was she even worth even a single drop of blood to him? _Don't make this your one mistake, Bella. _What did he mean? Was the life she spent serving him all a mistake?

Bellatrix erased the thought from her mind, as she reached upwards. She stayed her hand just above the prophecy. _I endured Azkaban for him._ She screwed her face up in desperation._ Everything I did was for you, my Lord_.

She held out her hand. 'Please, let my sacrifice not be for nothing. Please,' she whispered, her heart pounding, 'If the Dark Lord cares about anyone, it is me.' She was prepared for the worst as the tip her index finger made contact with the glass sphere.

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To all the people who reviewed the first chapter of this story, thanks a lot. Remember reviews are a writer's main motivational source, so please don't forget to review this. I hope this was worth your time.

Oh, and sorry to leave you on a cliff-hanger. I couldn't resist! Ha-ha.


	3. Chapter 3: The Prophecy

**Author's Note: **Welcome back to my fanfic, hope you're enjoying it so far (well you probably are if you've read this far.) Well this chapter's twice as long as the previous two. I originally planned to put the whole Parselmouth thing in the next chapter, but I didn't think it was worth making you people wait another couple of days to read it. Also I'll be updating less frequently, because school's started again and I've got homework (not that I actually do my homework, haha.)

So in this chapter I managed to make the prophecy rhythm. I know J.K. Rowling never did that, but hey, I'm not her. Also be prepared for a slightly awkward romantic scene in this chapter.

A big thanks to Syndic-Machiavelli for his review, or should I say '700 word long assessment of every little typo I made in chapter 2'. I pretty sure I corrected most of the errors you pointed out, but I'm pretty sure it's okay to say 'Bellatrix's' because that's what it says in the books (or at least that's what it says in the version I own.) I also tried to take your advice about giving Bellatrix some other motivation, tell me what you think. If there are any other mistakes which have escaped my notice, feel free to alert me to them. Oh and thanks to all my other reviewers too.

**Chapter 3: **The Prophecy and the Parselmouth

The pain spread through every nerve in Bellatrix's body. She writhed about, as if trying to shake the pain away, her face twisted in anguish. Never before had she experienced torture of such intensity, but what hurt her more was a deep sense of guilt, nestled in the back of her throat.

Her screams turned to silence as she was relieved of her torment for a moment. She seized the opportunity to reach into her pocket and grab the glass sphere she had carried with her, ever since she snatched it from the Hall of Prophecy. She tried to present the prophecy to her master, but she a second Cruciatus curse knocked her to the floor.

Voldemort would often cackle cruelly at the sight of the suffering he inflicted, but this time he could not bring himself to do so. 'You failed me, Bella,' he said in disappointment, 'You deserve all the pain in the world. Think of what we could've done with the prophecy. We would've learned the secret to destroying Potter, which would make me immortal, Bella.'

Bellatrix continued to tremble and wail on the floor. She looked as pathetic as a shrieking doll, but as Voldemort watched her an unfamiliar emotion took hold of him. He did not understand it, but he knew it made him weak. His throat turned dry and his stomach clenched uncomfortably.

The Cruciatus curse ceased to function. 'My Lord,' Bellatrix said, climbing to her feet, 'I beseech your forgiveness. I'll do anything, my Lord, anything! Just give another chance to…'

'Too late, Bella,' he said, 'because of your foolishness the prophecy will forever remain a mystery to us, _Crucio_!' Still clutching the prophecy, Bellatrix flailed her arms around in the air. Her screeching echoed in every corner of her master's room, awakening Nagini, who had fallen asleep for the first time since her master's return.

The prophecy flew from Bellatrix's hand. Voldemort's concentration broke causing Bellatrix's cries to come to an abrupt, but thankful, end. The three of them (including Nagini) gaped as the prophecy smashed to the ground. All was quite, apart from the sound of shattering glass.

A strange pale fluid emerged from the remains of the prophecy. The substance took the form of a slender, young woman. With her eyes closed, she spoke as though in a trance. Bellatrix and Voldemort stepped closer to the figure so as to make out her prediction.

_As the Dark Lord's heart grows colder each night_

_A lady will come to set his passions alight_

_He shall care for her, the way he cares for no other_

_She will place upon him the strongest form of cover _

_But before protection is gained, it must first be lost _

_So the blood of her hand will become the final cost _

_He shall be cleansed of a secret for which he is ashamed _

_And so the Dark Lord's power will forever be reclaimed _

'So you obtained this directly from the Hall of Prophecy?' Voldemort asked, as the figure dissolved, leaving nothing behind, besides a few broken shards of glass.

Bellatrix nodded. She held her breath in anticipation.

'You clutched the sphere in your bare hands, without being harmed in any way,' Voldemort said with a firm tone, 'or allowing someone else to touch it before you?'

'Yes, my Lord,' Bellatrix said, as she met his piercing gaze. Her eyes grew watery.

Voldemort let out a long sigh, before lurching forward to grasp Bellatrix wrist. His icy grip felt firm and reassuring. 'You must stand with me when I battle Harry Potter for the final time.'

'I'll be with you until my death,' she said, bowing her head with respect. Then she burst into tears.

Voldemort scowled. 'Don't cry,' he ordered, relinquishing his hold on her arm, 'You must never let another see your weakness or else your enemies might use your emotions against you. Learn to keep your pain hidden.'

Voldemort's words had the opposite effect on Bellatrix. She beamed up at him. Tears of joy poured down her face, harder than ever before.

'There is something you must know,' Voldemort said, 'but I suppose I should wait for another day. Meet me in the graveyard tomorrow night.' He left her to ponder those words.

'Master, wait for me' a voice said, as Voldemort exited, his long black cloak swishing behind him.

'Who said that,' said Bellatrix, drawing her wand. She focussed her attention on the only living left in the room, Nagini. The snake slithered towards the door, her master had just shut. She peered through the narrow space beneath the door, hissing with annoyance

'Other master needs some time alone,' said Bellatrix. An odd hiss followed her words.

'You spoke,' said Nagini.

'Of course I spoke…' she froze, as the realisation struck her, 'I spoke to a snake.' At first her new power confused her then she thought back to the day after the Azkaban breakout. 'The Dark Lord is a Parselmouth,' she muttered to herself in awe, 'Perhaps he gave me the ability, when he cast that spell.'

'You must've done great things to earn such a reward,' Nagini said.

Bellatrix, who had never understood the concept of modesty, launched into a rant about all she had gone through in search of Voldemort's gratitude and how the other Death Eaters would never match her devotion.

Nagini listened patiently, pleased to have someone to talk with aside from her master. The more Bellatrix blabbered, the more Nagini began to admire her vanity. She had the same slimy arrogance which drew Nagini to Voldemort.

When Bellatrix was finished, the two of them sat quietly for several minutes. Bellatrix contemplated the events of the evening and as she did so, she kept coming back to a particular question.

'Nagini,' she said, 'since you seem to know the Dark Lord quite well, maybe you could tell me why his curse failed while he was torturing me. I don't think he meant to stop. So what happened?'

'The Dark Lord experienced remorse,' said Nagini, 'I must admit, it came as a shock to me, yet there's no mistaking it. When the Dark Lord heard the terror in your voice, he was overcome with a strong sense of regret. The Cruciatus curse will not work without the sadistic intent, which he lacked. The Dark Lord only hurt you because he did not want to give the impression that he tolerated incompetence.'

'Are you sure he felt remorse?'

'Quite sure,' said Nagini, 'The Dark Lord and I share a connection. His emotions are as clear to me as they are to him. Sometimes I wonder if a part of him rests inside of me.' An awkward silence followed these words, as though Nagini had revealed a dangerous secret to Bellatrix.

'Our master tells me that your blood is the purest in the wizarding world,' Nagini said, to change the subject.

'Indeed it is,' said Bellatrix, grinning, 'I'm a member of the Black family. My mother always insisted on keeping mudblood filth to a minimum, but wizarding families these days are becoming more polluted by the minute. Even members of my own family tree have married muggles.'

'What a pity and a disgrace,' said Nagini.

'Mudbloods were never our equals, as some wizards would claim,' Bellatrix continued. Her voice grew louder as she became more and more outraged. 'They are nothing more than thieves, who intruded upon our world and our culture. We alone own the right to learn magic and control the wizarding world. We should be grinding the Mudbloods beneath our feet, like the pests they are. Let the mighty crush the weak, as is nature's way. One day I hope to stomp the whole lot of them out of existence, along with all their Muggle-loving friends.'

'I understand,' said Nagini, 'I come from a noble stock myself. My ancestors were friends of the great Salazar Slytherin. He invented a secret spell, to help strengthen the pureblood race, a spell triggered by an incantation only he and his children could utter.'

'So the incantation is in Parseltongue,' said Bellatrix, calming down a little. Talking about Muggle-borns always made her blood boil and she had ample things say on the subject, but she held back her tongue for she was intrigued by Nagini's description of Slytherin's spell.

'The incantation has been passed down within my family for generations. Though we are not able to use magic, simply knowing the spell is considered an honour among our kind. When cast correctly, the spell will suck out any impure blood from a wizard. Slytherin invented it because he feared pure-blood numbers would one day dwindle.'

'Teach me the words,' said Bellatrix, sharply. She had gained a sense of authority over Nagini while chatting with her. Bellatrix believed she would be able to bend Nagini to her will, the same way her master did.

'Oh I doubt the words will be of use to you. The spell only works if the wizard is willing to let go of the imperfections in his blood. Most half-bloods are proud of their heritage. They would rather not offend the muggle side of their family. Nevertheless, you might as well know the incantation.'

Bellatrix considered how she would use this spell, once Nagini finished teaching her how to pronounce the necessary hissing sound. Although such a spell would help further the pure-blood race, she did not think it fair to let others share the glories of being a pure-blood, without a price to pay. She decided she would use the Cruciatus curse on her half-blood victims, until they were prepared to give up their blood in exchange for an end to the torture. As these thoughts ran through her head, a question occurred to her.

'If I used this spell on a wizard would his dirty blood vanish, or would the blood be cleansed?'

'It depends on how experienced you are at using the spell. Sometimes blood will be lost; sometimes it won't be. Every spell has variables. Even the killing curse failed on one occasion.'

'Yes, the Dark Lord told me all about the Potter boy. The brat only survived because of his Mudblood mother. Pity she won't be able to save him when he duels the Dark Lord for the final time.' Bellatrix's insane laughter echoed through the house. Every object in the room vibrated, as if her crackles were enough to frighten even non-living things. 'Once the boy has gone the way of his parents, nobody will dare defy us. The Dark Lord and I shall at last be victorious.'

* * *

So are things starting to come together yet? Can you see what's going to happen? I sure hope not! I'm trying to make it clear that I've planned this whole thing from the beginning, so that I can look like a professional. Anyway tell me what you think. And once again don't forget to point out any spelling error, misplaced comma or wrongly used verb you might come across. Well that's all for now. Toodles!


	4. Chapter 4: The Blood of her Hand

**Author's Note: **Just thought I'd warn you guys that there's a mildly gross bit coming up in this chapter. No I'm not talking about anything related to the Bellatrix and Voldemort romance. Something else is going to happen which some people might find kind of disgusting. It just goes to show how sick a mind I have and how I should probably switch to the T rating. Just remember, you've been warned.

**Chapter 4: **The Blood of her Hand

A chilly mid-night breeze whistled past her ear, as Bellatrix wandered the graveyard. She shivered and wrapping her cloak tightly around her chest. All was black, apart from a ray of light, which beamed down from a crescent-shaped moon. The light seemed to be focused on a particular gravestone.

Bellatrix headed for the stone. She wondered if it might provide her with information, as to why Voldemort had chosen to meet her out here in the dead of the night. She stopped right in front of the stone and read the inscription.

_Tom Riddle_

She glanced up at the mansion on the hilltop. 'Ah yes,' she said, 'he was a muggle, whom the Dark Lord disposed off over fifty years ago.'

'The muggle had the selfishness to abandon his only son, he deserved what he got,' said a cruel voice, from behind Bellatrix. She swerved around to face her master.

She couldn't help but notice the grim look on Voldemort's face and wondered why she hadn't heard him approaching, considering how they were standing no more than an arm's length away from each other. She never knew the Dark Lord could move so softly.

'If the boy's mother had not been able to reach the orphanage in time, he would have been done for,' said Voldemort. He stared at Bellatrix, as if waiting to see how she would react.

Bellatrix grimaced. 'Why would I care what became of some worthless muggle's child?' she said.

Voldemort's eyes widened and his facial muscles grew tense. 'Because that child is standing before you at this very moment,' he said, as he hung his head in shame.

'You mean to say that you're…'

'Correct, I'm a half-blood.'

'No you can't be…'

'But I am.'

'You're lying!' Bellatrix said. She backed away from Voldemort as though he had pulled out a dangerous weapon.

'Bella, do you honestly believe that I would wish for you to hate me?'

Bellatrix stopped dead. She had no way of answering his question, so she responded with one of her own, 'Why didn't you tell me sooner?'

'I feared you would try to desert me if you found out,' he said, 'I would have no choice but to kill you if you dared attempt such an act. Though ending your life is no more of a challenge to me than swatting a fly, but your passion, your loyalty, make you valuable to me. The circumstances of my birth are beyond my control, Bella. I am not proud to be the son of a spoiled muggle brat. I killed him, even before I came of age. I still remember the night of his death, what a marvellous night it was. After sixteen years, I tasted revenge for the first time.'

Voldemort's voice sounded more and more insane, as he described his father's death, 'I delighted in possessing power he did not and was amazed by how much damage I caused with a single incantation. He fell to the floor, the life gone from of his miserable body. Then he lay there, still as the night sky. His death brought me a sense of accomplishment mixed with pride. You know the feeling, Bella. You experience it yourself, I presume.'

Bellatrix grinned hungrily. Voldemort had succeeded in getting across a vital point. Even though he was a half-blood by birth, his hatred towards muggles still burned as brightly as Bellatrix's.

'I thought you might have,' he said, returning her vicious smile, 'So now you understand my predicament. When the prophecy told us I would be _cleansed of a secret for was which I was ashamed, _I came to a simple conclusion. If I were to assume a position of power, I would first need to be rid of my unclean blood. The prophecy also implied that you would be the one to cleanse me.'

'You want me to make you a pure-blood?' Bellatrix asked, nervously. She had not yet mastered the Salazar Slytherin's ancient spell, but she was as determined as always to please her master.

'Normally I wouldn't seek your help, but after years of searching for a way to do it myself, my experiments are yet to yield fruit. If I can't purify myself, what choice do I have, other then to turn to you as the prophecy foretold?'

So upon her master's request, Bellatrix preformed the spell she had learned merely a day ago. A strange clear substance emerged from her wand, which took the form of snake. The snake lashed out at Voldemort, sank its fangs into his chest then wound itself around his torso.

The shock on Bellatrix's face was mirrored on Voldemort's, as the snake's head turned dark red. But the clear substance, which formed the outer body of the snake, had not changed. The snake was more like a transparent tube being filled with red ink. Only once the colour had travelled to the tip of the snake's tail, did Bellatrix finally realise what was happening: the snake was drinking Voldemort's blood.

The snake's body expanded rapidly until it burst open. The remains of the snake disintegrated into nothing, leaving behind only Voldemort's blood, which covered the ground surrounding him.

A foul stench seeped through his nostrils, as a strange sense of drowsiness overcame him. Not content with appearing weak or clumsy, Voldemort fought the urge to collapse, but stumbled nonetheless.

He expected to feel his fragile body, crashing into the ground, but instead Bellatrix caught him in her arms. She cradled him, like she would a baby. Never before had he been this dependent on anyone other than himself. A deep sense of shame filled his mind, mixing with an odd sense of comfort.

'Bella,' he whispered. He quivered as he spoke. His voice sounded hoarse, as though it took him a great deal of effort to say that one word. Bellatrix stared at him, mortified.

'No, this can't be happening' she cried, in a voice of sheer terror, 'Oh, what've I done?' The Dark Lord's eyes, which up until this point had glowed with power and determination, now reflected the struggle he was going through after loosing half of his blood. Nothing ever horrified Bellatrix more, than to see her master so weak and helpless. She wished she had paused to think before casting her spell.

Tears welled up inside her, as she gently released Voldemort from her grip, laying him to rest on the cold earth. _Don't cry, my Bella. _As she kneeled beside her master, his words repeated themselves over and over in her mind. They gave her the courage to do what must be done. She decided to heal her master and relieve him of the agony she herself had caused.

Using a knife she kept in pocket of her robes, she created a shallow cut across the palm of her own hand then placed an identical mark upon Voldemort's hand. He squirmed softly as she did so, which added to Bellatrix's grief.

'How could I let this happen to you,' she said. She clasped the skeleton-like hand, she had just sliced open. A quick glance at Voldemort's face, revealed how his life was being drained from him, with every passing moment. She adjusted her grip, so that the cut on her hand aligned perfect with the one on Voldemort's. With her uninjured hand, she returned knife to her pocket and drew out her wand. She aimed the wand at the point where their hands met and cast her spell.

Her blood gushed out through the cut on her hand, but not a drop was wasted, as the blood went straight from her hand to Voldemort's. Although the spell hurt her, the pain was nothing compared to the pain Bellatrix had experienced, moments earlier, as she witnessed her master's strength leaking away from him. Now the process was being reversed, but Bellatrix feared she might have taken too long to cast her spell.

'Don't leave me, master,' she said, 'I am nothing without you.' A deep silence settled over the graveyard.

'Leave you?' Voldemort said, with a hint of amusement. His voice no longer sounded raspy. In fact Voldemort had regained his usual sense of confidence and authority, 'I never planned on doing such a thing, not now, not ever. Since my youth, I have worked to gain immortality; yet you doubt I will achieve my goal?'

'Of course not, my Lord,' said Bellatrix. A warm sense of relief rushed through her. 'Your power is without end, but I feared that you might not survive without your father's blood. Please forgive me for what I did to you tonight.'

'Why would I still need my father's blood, when I have the blood of someone far more worthy?' Voldemort reached upwards. He ran his fingers through Bellatrix's hair. She released a shrill squeal of delight, as she leaned in towards her master. An intangible force pulled her closer to him.

'Although you robbed me of my strength momentarily, you replenished me without delay. Consider yourself forgiven,' Voldemort said, grinning gratefully up at her, 'In fact I feel stronger now, far stronger than I did before.'

'My strength is yours, master.'

'Promise me this Bella, promise you'll be mine for all of eternity, promise you'll give up every part of yourself to me.'

'My Lord, I would not have it any other way.'

Voldemort gently laid both of his hands upon her cheeks, as if to say, _it__ is time, my Bella. _A rush of adrenaline took hold of her.

But before their lips met, Bellatrix gave a wild shudder and fainted. She landed with her head pressed against Voldemort's right cheek. He gasped as he remembered how he had almost fallen unconscious himself. He wondered if Bellatrix would pull through, having given up so much of her blood. Had her devotion been too powerful for her own good?

_Why do you care? _A voice snarled from inside of him. _She was never anything more than your servant, why does __it__ matter to you whether she lives or dies? _It was true, many women had lusted after him in his youth, but Bellatrix was different. She had never gazed upon the charming face of Tom Riddle. His snake-like features and fearsome eyes were what captivated her. In other words, Bellatrix adored his wickedness, like no one else ever would.

She was precious, irreplaceable and represented all he could ever want from his followers. Yes, she had failed to retrieve the prophecy he desired, but the one she _had_ acquired would turn out to be the key to his victory. Of that he was certain.

As he embraced her motionless body, he heard the sound he hoped for, the slow thudding of Bellatrix's heart. The tension lifted. Bellatrix opened her eyes and whispered in Voldemort's ear, 'I am yours... my Lord.'

Her words filled Voldemort's mind with dreams of their future together. With Bellatrix as his the source of his strength, his mightiness would never cease to grow. With each passing day they would feed of each others darkness, until their power eclipsed that of the sun. This was the future Voldemort would create and with the Dark Lady Bella by his side, no one, not even the Boy who Lived, the so called Chosen One, would dare block his path.

* * *

So there you have it, Chapter 4. Don't forget to review. I know I say that with every update, but I'm really grateful to all my reviewers. Thank you for being awesome!

If you're wondering why Nagini never told Voldemort about the spell that she revealed to Bellatrix, we'll just say that she did, but there's some rule which says it can't be used on one's self.

And don't say I didn't warn about that gross bit in the middle. Haha. I just couldn't write a fanfic about this couple with some kind of violence and gore.

Also don't forget to check out this one-shot I wrote about them. You can find it if you go to my profile page, it's called 'The Missing Piece.' It's a sad look at what would've happened if Bellatrix had died in the final battle, but Voldemort had survived.


	5. Chapter 5: The Forest Once More

**Author's Note: **Okay, this is basically a mockery of the ending of DH. It starts when Harry is about to enter the clearing in the Forbidden Forest where Voldemort is waiting for him. I know I've skipped past about two years here, but we all know what happens during that time. Now before you read this, it might be a good idea to go back and remember why Harry was able to come back to life after Voldemort struck him down. That part does come in rather important.

I'm kind of hoping you've already figured out what's going to happen because I suck at explaining things. There'll probably be a few things that don't make sense, because I just can't find a way to work these explanations in properly.

**Chapter 5: **The Forest Once More 

'My Lord,' Bellatrix stuttered. She stood at her master's right-hand side, eying him with worshipful fascination. Never before had Voldemort appeared this majestic. His body appeared to be lit up by a glowing black flame, as if the darkness within him was radiating outwards. His eyes reflected the deep sense of desire in his heart. Bellatrix would've done anything to have those eyes focussed on her, instead they continued to stare off into the heavens.

She cautiously placed her hand upon her master's shoulder, causing the dark flame to engulf her too. The sensation it gave her was one she had experienced before, but would never grow weary of. 'My Lord…' she repeated.

'Not now, Bella,' Voldemort replied, sternly, 'Potter should be arriving any moment now, unless he'd rather allow me to squeeze the life out of his miserable allies back at the castle.'

'I won't,' shouted a young, male voice. In an instant all eyes turned to the speaker. All expect for Bellatrix's, for she remained mesmerized by her master's glorious form.

Even though the Death Eaters had been expecting him, many of them gasped once they caught sight of Harry. Some of them jeered; while others seemed unnerved by his presence. Harry made a decent attempt to display his heroism, but his fear did not escape the Dark Lord's notice. Voldemort smirked with satisfaction at the shakiness of Harry's voice and the way he couldn't quite maintain his composure after unveiling himself.

This was the end, the final confrontation. Harry James Potter, the last beckon of hope for the wizarding world stood firm. Even Voldemort was impressed by his bravery, but the Dark Lord's confidence would not sway; for he knew that the last remaining barrier between himself and his goal of immortality would come crashing down with the flick of a wand.

'Of course you won't let me kill your little friends, will you Harry?' Voldemort said, curtly, 'You are still the same boy you were at the age of eleven, the fool who charged into danger without first considering the consequences. Your recklessness is your greatest weakness, the reason you will die tonight.'

'I came here to die,' Harry said. He sounded calm, despite his current situation. In fact he reminded Voldemort reminded of his other mortal enemy, Albus Dumbledore.

'Indeed Harry, you truly are foolish,' Voldemort said. He raised the Elder Wand as if he were wielding an axe.

But before he cast the final blow, Bellatrix cried out, 'My Lord, let me torture him first. He deserves the pain. Think of what he did to you, what he did to both of us.'

Voldemort halted, 'Very well Bellatrix, you've earned such an honour.'

'Oh thank you, My Lord,' she bowed to him, before facing Harry.

She bared her teeth at him as she stepped forward and aimed her wand at his chest. The boy backed away nervously. He had expected a quick, painless death and nothing more.

'_Is the poor baby afraid of a wittle pain_? Bellatrix said, with high-pitched, mocking tone. When none of the Death Eaters laughed in response to her jest, she abandoned her baby voice and proceeded to shout, '_Crucio_.'

Bellatrix cackled madly at the sight of Harry writhing in agony. The Dark Lord heard the joy in her voice. It was music to his ears. He owned her. Her body, her soul, her mind, they belonged to him and him alone. She had sacrificed so much for him. He could never repay her; he _didn't need_ to repay her.

Her one true wish was to serve him; she revelled in his success. Together they combined to create one single, invincible entity.

As he thought of her, a strange impulse surged through him. He wanted to touch her; there was nothing to stop him, but he was scared, scared of his own emotions, scared to expose his weak spot in front of the enemy.

_What does it matter? Potter will be dead in a matter of moments, _he reminded himself. Eventually, his longing for contact overcame his fear. He sneaked up behind Bellatrix and laid his arm around her shoulders, pulling her in close to him. She turned her head to look at him, her eyes widened in awe. The fire in his eyes, along with the sound of his seductive hissing, made a dreamy expression form on Bellatrix's face.

With Bellatrix distracted, Harry's torture ended. His jaw dropped as his eyes came to rest on the couple. 'You're toying with her aren't you?' said Harry, 'you disgusting fiend.'

Bellatrix snapped her head around. 'DON'T ADDRESS THE DARK LORD LIKE THAT, YOU SCUM!' she screamed, 'YOU AREN'T EVEN WORTHY TO STAND IN HIS PRESENCE, YOU REPULISIVE HALF-BLOOD!'

Harry chuckled, 'I suppose you didn't hear me the first time I told you. Your master's a half-blood too.'

'Not anymore, he's not. Every drop of impurity which once resided within him is now gone.'

'Every drop,' Harry repeated to himself. Bellatrix's answer had provided him with a sudden brainwave. He remembered the night in the graveyard when he had witnessed Voldemort's return only three years ago.

With a spontaneous burst of fury, Harry leapt forward and wrapped his fingers around Voldemort's arm. For a moment both Bellatrix and Voldemort stood in silence, taken aback by Harry's unprovoked strike.

The shock soon worn off and Voldemort responded with a distasteful smirk as if he had touched something germ-infested. Bellatrix's reacted in a far more vocal manner.

'HOW DARE YOU INFECT HIM WITH YOUR FILTH,' she wailed, but Harry was too stubborn to listen. He dug his hands deeper into Voldemort's flesh.

Only then did Voldemort feel a sense pain spreading through him, yet his discomfort wasn't nearly as great as Harry had hoped.

'I thought you intended to go down without a fight,' Voldemort teased.

'I still do, but not until you understand the pain you caused here tonight,' said Harry, in what he believed to be a profound manor, 'You lost more than just your father's blood. You lost my blood too, my mother's blood, the only thing which protected you from my touch.'

'The same trick doesn't work twice, Harry. Six years have passed since my attempt to procure the Philosopher's Stone. My current strength far surpasses that of my old self. Besides I now have a shield I never even knew existed.'

He smiled fondly at Bellatrix. He had been marked by her compassion; something he did not believe existed, prior to meeting and interacting with her. One selfless act on her behalf helped him realise just how enduring their connection was. He had changed in an incredible way. Now Harry and Voldemort both carried the same mark. Harry's of course came from his mother.

The two opponents held the same spec of light in their heart, but unlike Harry's, Voldemort's was enclosed by darkness. He had rejected the light and thought of it as a threat to him, something he must force out one way or another, when it was quite the opposite. Only when he embraced the spec did he discover the power it unlocked.

Bellatrix cast a second Cruciatus curse upon Harry, freeing Voldemort from his hold. In an instant the boy was forced to the floor, his body twisting violently.

'You're a liar,' Harry choked, amazed at his ability to talk despite his excruciating torment, 'Bellatrix is nothing to you! You're nothing to her. She sees only your power and wants a piece to herself.'

Bellatrix was about to let out a scream of rage, when Voldemort held up his hand to silence her. A mocking smile stretched across his thin lips, 'The latter may be true, but why would that make me nothing to her? I believe the contrary. Power is everything, Harry. My power is what inspired her feelings for me. She was drawn to my strength so much so that she was willing to give up her own blood for me. She would have given me her life had I requested her to. Your one advantage is gone. Even without your blood I am protected. Since her sacrifice didn't kill her, my protection may not be as strong as the one your mother gave you. It won't numb the pain altogether, but it shall suffice. It is, after all, the strongest form of cover.' Bellatrix sniggered gleefully, remembering the prophecy her master had referenced.

'This is where your legend ends, Harry,' Voldemort added, his voice was barely louder than a whisper, yet his words were enough to turn Harry's blood to ice, 'So much for the Boy Who Lived.'

Still at the mercy of Bellatrix's curse, Harry asked two last questions, 'Is your cruelty without boundary? So many tears shed, so many families torn apart, all because of you. How many deaths will it take to satisfy your thirst for blood?'

'Only one, tonight,' Voldemort leered, his contorted face alight with exuberance, 'Bellatrix, end his torture, let him make his final stand.'

'I'm not going to fight,' Harry protested, once Bellatrix had done as she had been instructed.

'Well, you're no fun at all then, are you?' Voldemort taunted, 'Get up! Or would you rather die at my feet, with your head in the dirt where you belong?'

Harry lay still, curled up on the muddy earth, his face buried in his arms. He had decided to rebel against Voldemort until the moment his heart made its final beat. The charm which had kept Harry alive for the past sixteen years would die along with him.

'Your life has been nothing more than a fluke, Harry. A string of favourable coincidences kept you alive thus far. Had you received the wrong wand, or had Dumbledore not come to your rescue at precisely the right moment, you would long dead by now. Your remains would be rotting in the dirt along side those of your parents. Some might say you were "destined" to defeat me._ Such lies!_ Lord Voldemort, the wizard who has dived further into the Dark Arts than anyone in living memory, vanquished by a teenager. What a childish thought! I could not imagine a less probable outcome. I command you to look at me when I kill you Potter! So I can see the lights leave your eyes!'

Still Harry didn't move, 'I'll never follow your commands. You're a vile creature. You deserve death far more than I do.'

Voldemort's grin widened, adding to his menacing appearance, 'But unfortunately for you, not everyone gets what they deserve, _Avada Kedavra.'_

It was over before he knew what had happened. One second Harry was a living begin, his mind overflowing with thoughts of his friends. The next, he laid still, a motionless pile of flesh and bones, devoid of any feelings or ideas. The Boy who Lived, lived no more.

* * *

Well there you go. Not much else to say. So how do you think my ending compares to Rowling's? Please review this is really important.

Of course this isn't the end. Even though Harry can't come back to life, there's still the part where they march of to the castle and everything, but from now on I'm not going to do much more explaining and I hope I don't have to. Also I will be writing an epilogue. So to all my reviewers, I want your opinion on something. Should Bellatrix and Voldemort have a kid? I'm mean, I've always wanted to do that with them, but 1) it just seems silly 2) it's not like Voldemort's still fertile. So tell me what you think. You guys rock! Bye.

Yeah I know Voldemort acted very OoC. Oh well, it would have to reach this point eventually.

Also the 'see the lights leave your eyes' line is stolen from the fourth movie. It doesn't quite fit here. Oh well, it's a cool quote anyway


	6. Chapter 6: His Power Reclaimed

**Author's Note: **There's not much to say this time. Lots of OoC behaviour going on in this chapter, but it can't really be helped.

**Chapter 6: **His Power Reclaimed 

For a moment, the Death Eaters held their breath, but the boy's corpse did not stir. The observers let out an ecstatic cry. They cheered and released green and red sparks into the air.

Voldemort's expression was that of euphoria. Victory had eluded him for sixteen years. Now those times of struggle were history. Besides, what were sixteen years when compared to the eternity he had to gloat over his triumph?

He listened with glee as his allies rejoiced, but the only person whose laughter truly mattered was Bellatrix, the wonderful, amazing woman who would not leave his grasp. Her laugh was the loudest and the most exuberant.

A smooth, black rock lay on the forest floor next to Harry's limp body. It glinted in the moonlight, capturing Voldemort's attention. His heart leapt as he recognised the stone. He released Bellatrix and moved forward to collect it. 'The stone from my uncle's old ring,' he said, 'finally the Gaunt's heirloom can be returned to the rightful owner.' He slipped the stone into his pocket.

Meanwhile, Bellatrix raided Harry's corpse, searching for anything of value. 'This might come in useful, My Lord,' she said. She held up Harry's invisibility cloak up then wrapped the fabric around herself.

'Indeed,' said Voldemort, for Bellatrix's head appeared to be dangling in mid-air. She tossed the cloak to him. He draped it over his shoulder.

The Elder Wand, the stone and the cloak were united. They emanated a vibrant, red glow. The three objects gave Voldemort control over his one fear, death. He sighed with contentment as he absorbed the Hallows' magic. The black flame surrounding him sprung to life, growing larger than ever before.

Even though the magic was not hers, the sight of such power filled Bellatrix with elation. She fell to the ground, howling with joy at the thought of her master's accomplishments.

Voldemort saw Bellatrix rolling on the ground with glee. He wanted nothing more, than to throw himself at her, to take hold of his most precious possession and let her zealous ring through his ears, but committing such an act under the watchful eyes of his followers would mean loosing their respect.

Instead Voldemort simply chortled along with Bellatrix. Their eccentric laughter flowed through the forest like a river of poison, striking terror and despair into the hearts of all who heard it.

'Pull yourself together, Cissy!' said Bellatrix.

'But Bella, you don't understand,' Narcissa wailed, as the Death Eaters proceeded through the forest, 'My son, Draco. How am I to find him? He might be dead for all I know.'

'We'll bring the boy to you once we've conquered the castle.' Bellatrix had little intention of keeping the promise. Her patience wearing thin, she placed an Imperius upon Narcissa, forcing her to stay in the forest where she would be out of harms way for the duration of the battle.

In the Great Hall, Bellatrix faced Molly Weasley without fear. She had been trained to kill, yet some fools still believed they stood a chance of defeating her.

Ginny stood beside her mother, sobbing pitifully. 'Leave Ginny. Get out of here,' said Mrs Weasley. She kept her eyes off Bellatrix.

'No mother, I want to fight.' She attempted to put on a brave face.

'Aw, the wittle girlie wants to die alongside her mummy,' Bellatrix mocked.

Mrs Weasley ignored her. 'Take Ron and Hermione and go,' she said to Ginny, 'You want Harry's death to have been in vain do you?'

At the mention of Harry's name, Ginny dashed from the hall, with Ron and Hermione at her heels.

Bellatrix smirked at them with amusement, not aware that she had broken one of the most important rules of duelling: Never let your concentration wander.

Voldemort watched in utter disbelief, as Mrs Weasley's curse struck Bellatrix in the chest and she collapsed.

No, this can't be possible… _It__ has happened… _She can't be… _But she is… _No, only the weak fall… _She__ was__ weak… _She weakened herself for me…_She was ALWAYS weak. _

There she lay, nothing more than a mangled heap of flesh, her crumbled body sprawled across the blood-stained hardwood floor, some fifty yards from where Voldemort stood. She had a dazed expression on her gaunt face. Molly Weasley glared down at her in savage triumph.

The Battle of Hogwarts continued to rage around him, but another struggle was being fought within Voldemort himself.

_You wish to join her, do you…? _No, I swore I would become immortal… _Then give up this foolish act… _What act? This is no act, I …

He could not find the right word.

I … need her, he realised.

It was her, whose loyalty never ceased to amaze him. She strengthened his convictions regarding the treatment of muggle-born pests and opened the door to power, the likes of which he had only dreamed of.

Through the years Bellatrix had remained a source of service and support. Without her, he would not be this ferocious, this determined. He needed her to push him forward into new realms of cruelty. She stroked his ego, flattered him with her everlasting worship and motivated him to plunge deeper into areas of the dark arts yet to be explored. Above all, she gave him something of even greater value, something he never expected to seek; something he would only find in her.

Now she was gone, taken away from him just as he had begun to appreciate all she had done in his name, but the spec of light he carried, did not flicker out. It erupted into a ball of uncontainable fury. Voldemort's anger rendered him incapable of forming words. He lost control, venting out his rage with a blood-curdling shriek, every muscle in his face taut with hatred. His opponents cowered away from him, clasping their hands over their ears to protect themselves from his deafening cry.

His blood boiling, he spun around to face Mrs Weasley. Her smugness turned to terror. Voldemort could barely hold his wand, for his hand had started quivering with spite. His brow creased to form a look of pure malice.

He recognised this feeling, this yearning for revenge. He had experienced it as faced his father for the first and last time. The same pitiless expression had twisted his then handsome features, as he prepared to murder the very man who helped create him. Voldemort had known the act would corrupt his soul, but he didn't care at the time, and he certainly didn't care now. He enemy deserved to have every flicker of life drained from her. All he wanted was to destroy, to punish and to kill.

But something was different this time. Mrs Weasley had not harmed him, yet still he longed to see her perish.

In response to his longing, a jet of green light issued from his wand without the need for him to say a word, but the curse's victim didn't merely die. Her body crumbled into millions of fine powdery flakes, which hung in the air to form a dense, white smoke.

Still, reducing Mrs Weasley's corpse to dust was not enough for Lord Voldemort, for although his vengeance brought him delight, all the curse did was cover up his pain instead of lessening his sorrow. He did not understand this type of suffering and thus he couldn't heal it, so he inflicted the misery upon others.

He launched countless killing curses across the room, in every direction possible. He did not care if most of them missed their mark. Their sheer speed and number meant the inevitable doom of all who opposed him… and all who did not.

Soon all which remained of Hogwarts' army were a few scattered bodies and a fog, which spread to fill the entire hall. Despite the dust, Voldemort located Bellatrix without much difficulty. Her body was among those spared from her master's destructive wrath. With nothing left to kill, Voldemort fury ebbed away.

For the space of a heartbeat, Bellatrix appeared to give a slight twitch, but Voldemort would not be persuaded by false hope. He knew he only saw what he wanted, not what was real. His gem had left him. She would never return. He was strong enough to survive without her of course, but surviving was not the same as living. The torturing and the killing would continue, but without her laughter to urge him onward, such activities would loose much of their appeal.

He did not understand. He hadn't felt so empty before he met Bellatrix, so why should his life be any different after she had left him? Nothing made sense to him anymore. So many new emotions; only one explanation…

'Master, what has happened here? Where did all this smoke come from?'

Bellatrix was stirring. She roused herself, in a disoriented fashion and stretched her arms. Voldemort averted his eyes. The image of Bellatrix sitting upright, patiently awaiting his reply, stayed in his mind. He could not bear to look at her, for he feared the miracle he had witnessed would turn out to be an illusion.

'My Lord, is the battle over?'

Reluctantly, he took a glance in her direction. 'You're alive?' he said.

His self-restraint failed him. Like a bird of prey, he swooped down upon Bellatrix from behind her, flinging his arms around her waist. He pressed her back against his chest, as if holding her closer would finally convince him that she was real

'You didn't think some mad housewife's curse would be enough to finish me, did you? The Unforgivable Curses are not to be used by petty old woman. When cast ineptly, the killing curse will only knock the victim unconscious for several minutes. She would need to practise for a lifetime before she learned to use the spell. Of course you wouldn't know, would you? You are a natural expert in the dark arts.'

'Oh, I'm far more than an expert. All thanks to you, my beautiful.' He rested his chin against her shoulder.

Bellatrix's heart swelled with pride. 'So, you do love me?'

'Love you? No, I only love the strength your presence bestows upon me. I crave your magic, Bella, nothing more.'

Bellatrix giggled, apparently unfazed by her master's words. 'I crave yours.'

'We're drawn to each other for the wrong reasons,' he said.

She turned her head and pressed her lips to his ear. 'This is love,' she said, 'there are no wrong reasons.'

Love does not spawn with time. It must exist from the start. It will, however, become stronger and more bounding.

In the case of Voldemort and Bellatrix, their relationship always had the potential to go far, but as their love grew, so did their hatred towards the enemy, for adding darkness to darkness, will only give birth to an even greater form of darkness. Though Bellatrix was Voldemort's only glimmer of light, to rest of the world she became the female embodiment of sadism. No one was in any doubt that the two of them cared nothing for each other. For who would love a man with such a heartless nature?

But it was for this very reason that Bellatrix admired him. Her love for him had not made her corrupt. It was her corruption, which made her love him.

Voldemort made no hesitation in announcing the downfall of Harry Potter. Chaos followed, allowing the wizarding world to be consumed in Voldemort's shadow.

And in a secluded corner of the Malfoy Manor, the Dark Lord would make love to his queen, undisturbed.

* * *

One more chapter to go. I warn you, there'll be plenty of cheesiness. Reviews are more than welcome.


	7. Chapter 7: Nineteen Years Later

**Author's Note: **Hurray! I've finished! The end! Not much more to say I guess.

Chapter 7: **Nineteen Years Later**

Winter seemed to arrive steadily that year, but to the people of the wizarding world, the idea of 'Christmas' had long since lost any sense of meaning or wonder. Presents brought little joy in those troubled times. Instead, parents would tell their children stories of days before You-Know-Who's ascension to power, yet to the children such stories sounded like nothing more than fanciful tales of fiction.

There was one girl, however, who cared not for petty family traditions. As the year was drawing to a close, the teenage epitome of dark beauty stood in the hallway of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. She was lean and bony armed, with an unnaturally pale complexion. Her hollow cheeks and superfluous eye make up, gave her the appearance of a full grown woman. Her straight raven-coloured hair formed a silky veil around her head.

She pressed her ear against a door, which she suspected, led to the mansion's kitchen.

'Another year gone by, yet still we wait and mope,' huffed an impatient female voice from behind the door.

'If any of the others had escaped, you'd think we would've found them after nineteen years,' a male voice responded.

'Then why are we still here?' said the third voice, which also belonged to a woman.

'I've told you before Ginny, this is the only safe place left to raise our children.'

'No place is safe, Hermione, not while They Who Must Be Named remain in power.'

'Oh cheer up, Ron,' said Hermione, though she did not comply with her own instructions, 'While we live there's still a chance of defeating Bell-' Ron and Ginny suppressed a gasp of shock '-atrix and Voldemort,' Hermione finished, ignoring the other's reactions.

On the other side of the door, the girl, who had been hanging on the family's every word, giggled with delight. 'Enjoy your cockiness while you can,' she said.

There was a sharp crack. The girl twisted her head around to see who had Apparated onto the scene. 'My Lord,' she said, as she fell to her knees in respect of the Dark Lord and Lady, who stood hand in hand beside her.

'Ah Salzara,' said Voldemort, 'My Lady and I were enjoying a midnight stroll and we thought we'd drop by in case you required any assistance.'

'No, my Lord,' said Salzara, indignantly, 'I prefer to function alone.'

'Indeed, I would expect nothing less of you. You have located your target by now, I presume.'

Salzara nodded. She withdrew her wand from her cloak and proceeded through the door to find her victims. It was time for the young snake to take her first delicious bite.

Ron, Hermione and Ginny were slouched around a dusty kitchen table, all of them wearing the same disgruntled expression. They nearly jumped out of their skin as they heard the door creak open. A wolfish smile crept across Salzara's lips. The mere sight of her made the three friends shudder. Salzara possessed a dangerous aura, thought she was yet to hurt them.

'Who are you? What do you want?' said Ginny, her voice sounded firm, but Salzara was not fooled. Her colourless eyes pierced through Ginny's stern expression, into the depths of her mind. Her terror became apparent. Salzara's grin widened.

Phrases such as 'kill first, answer questions later' had always been a part of her philosophy, now more than ever. Brandishing her wand with glee, she spoke the fatal words.

Ginny's body turned limp. She fell forward; landing with her head slumped over the table and her eyes shut. As she collapsed, her hand knocked over a wine glass, which shattered into pieces.

Salzara had left the door ajar, allowing Voldemort's hissing voice to reach her through the gap, 'So you have taken from another what Bella and I worked so hard to give you. How does it feel?'

'Marvellous, my Lord,' said Salzara.

Bellatrix's face split into a smile. The couple exchanged proud looks.

While Salzara had understood Voldemort's words clearly, all Ron heard was the hissing which followed them. Nevertheless he succumbed to panic. His stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch, but as the man of the house it was his duty to protect the family.

'Go upstairs… warn the children… I'll hold her off,' said Ron. He leapt from his seat. Hermione rarely obeyed her husband's instructions so easily, but this was not the time for them to bicker as they often did. Biting back her tears, she darted from the room in search of Rose and Hugo Weasley. Salzara took note of the direction she had taken.

Ron fought hard, but though he was far older than her in years, his clumsiness and inexperience made him an unworthy opponent. Salzara avoided Ron's stunning spells with grace and ease. She relished Ron's frustration.

Once she'd had her fun, she killed Ron swiftly, without the slightest hint of reluctance. She twiddled her wand, as she surveyed the scene. Her eyes glistened with triumph.

Bellatrix and Voldemort listened to the echo of her footsteps as she climbed the stairs in search of Hermione. As they stood together in silence, a worrying thought occurred to Voldemort. 'Bella, do you get the feeling that history might repeat itself tonight?' he said.

'Whatever do you mean, my Lord?' Bellatrix asked.

'Let us follow our child and you shall see for yourself.'

So under the concealment of the invisibility cloak, the couple climbed the staircase leading to the Rose and Hugo's bedroom. Upon reaching the landing they immediately recognised Salzara's voice.

'I'm prepared to let you leave here alive,' she said, her voice sizzled venomously, 'Even though you reek of muggle-born filth, you are no threat to me, but your children are a different matter. They are still young. Who knows what they might accomplish in their lifetime? They must be killed before they have the chance to endanger my family. You on the other hand have a choice.'

'No Salzara,' said Voldemort in Parselmouth, as he and Bellatrix burst into the room, wands drawn, ready to strike if necessary, 'Don't give her your mercy she doesn't deserve it.'

Hermione knelt on the floor, whimpering. She refused to look her attacker in the eyes. Her two children huddled around her breathless with horror.

'Please I beg of you, without my family I have nothing to live for,' said Hermione.

Salzara smirked. A flash of green light shone through the dark windows of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place and Hugo's life came to an abrupt end.

A second later a pair of simultaneously fired curses sucked the life out Hermione and Rose. Salzara swivelled around to face her parents. 'You didn't expect us to let you have all of them to yourself now, did you?' said Bellatrix.

'Were those the last of our enemies?' Salzara asked.

Voldemort shook his head. 'There will always be those among the wizarding community who … disapprove of our actions, but I assure you, we fight for a noble cause. In fact you were named after the very wizard who began the war against muggle-borns.'

'Salazar Slytherin?'

Voldemort nodded. He beamed at his family, his _true _family.

'It's time for you to head back to Aunt Narcissa,' said Bellatrix.

'But don't you think it's time for me to move out of my den,' said Salzara, 'I was hoping I could make use of this abandoned mansion.'

'Well as an honourable member of the Black family, I suppose this old house is yours.' And so the matter was settled.

Voldemort gave the Dark Lady a brief peck on the lips. She responded by moaning in delight, excited at the prospect of spending yet another night alone with the man she had been meant for all her life.

No man alive had threatened them for nineteen years. All was well.

* * *

In your face J.K. Rowling!

Hey readers (if there still are any after two years.) Here's an interesting bit of trivia. When I wrote this story originally in 2008, I thought it would be neat if I made the story exactly 7 chapters and 13,000 words long. Instead the story turned out to be over 14,000 words long. I thought there was no way I could delete one thousand words without loosing any important information. Now the year is 2010 (has it really been that long?) I've editted it a few times and it's exactly 13,000 words. That includes all the author's notes and thankyous (plus this update which I added just so that I could bring the word count up, without adding unnecessary words to the story.) So there you have it. That's the power of editting for you.

**A (Somewhat Amusing) Thankyou Note**

Now I don't often write thankyou notes. I rarely have anyone to thank apart from myself. So I consider you somewhat lucky to be reading this.

Well actually anyone who owns a computer will be able to read this, but this note is really only for the eyes of those who have the entire story and been at least somewhat entertained by it.

I'm glad you took the time to read the 14,000 word long ramblings of a bored adolescent. Especially considering how I normally don't even bother with stories that are longer than 2,000 words. I have a low tolerance for long stories, so don't ask me how I managed to read all 7 Harry Potter books. The point is I read all the Harry Potter books and I don't regret it.

Actually I kind of regret reading the ending of book 7 and if you're reading this (which you obviously are) I'm assuming you did too.

To everyone who reviewed this story, you guys deserve the most thanks. I don't think I could've finished it without your inspiring messages.

Long Live the Dark Lord and Lady!


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